


life, a beautiful and fragile thing

by straddling_the_atmosphere



Series: get sleazy [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asthma, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Orphans, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straddling_the_atmosphere/pseuds/straddling_the_atmosphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve becomes an orphan at eight years old. He follows the nun, clutching his little bag of things, and meets his bed buddy, James Buchanan Barnes. </p><p>Or. How Steve and Bucky meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	life, a beautiful and fragile thing

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 of my sleazy 'verse, which is all in the same vein, though not in any particular order.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> title from Out Alive by Ke$ha

He's eight years old when he becomes an orphan. He couldn't remember his father, but his mother, his beautiful, sweet, kind-eyed mother who would tuck him in and kiss him on the cheek, would put his inhaler under his pillow just in case...she was gone. She wouldn't be doing that again anytime soon. Steve chokes back a sound from somewhere behind the big lump in his throat and clutches his meager belongings to his chest, breath coming out in rattling waves. 

"Oh, sweetie, let me help with that," one of the nuns comes over to help him with his things, but a flash of hot white panic and his breath catching and he's squeezing with all the strength of his feeble arms to hold onto it. What if they take it and he never gets it back? He can't lose his ma's (dad's) watch or her silver-pearled hair pins or the picture of the two of them they'd taken at Coney Island once. He can't lose it. She tries to take it but after a moment she sighs and lets it be, motioning for him to follow. He gazes down the hallways of the huge house, clearly old and dusty and in need of a few repairs, but it's a lot nicer than where he and his ma lived. 

"We are currently a bit overstocked," she's telling him as he looks around. "So you will be sharing a bed with one of the other boys. Steve jerks his head to look at her at that because he's never gotten along well with other boys. Too small and thin with a loud mouth to boot, he doesn't want the misfortune of being kicked by his own bedmate. She smiles, kindly and gentle like she knows what he's thinking, and lets him into a room loud with the energy of dozens of boys around his age, some a little older, some younger, all yelling at each other, jumping on beds or playing with red and blue toy trains and cars. Steve shrinks back at all the noise, used to the gentle quiet with his mother. "James Barnes!" the lady says in a clear voice, and a boy with dark brown hair that curls at his ears and a pair of shocking blue eyes scampers over. He's bigger than Steve, but then, everyone is, and he seems to breathe easier too.

Steve's heart sinks because he looks like just the kind of boy who used to push Steve in the dirt and make him cough up dust. But he takes one look at Steve and grins, one front tooth missing and two bottom teeth gone too. "Hi," he says, bright and happy. "You my buddy? We're gonna have so much fun. You're kinda small which is awesome 'cause it means the bed is more comfy for the two of us, an' I'm gonna show you my favorite hangouts, if that's okay." He adds the last part as an afterthought, like he realizes he might've talked too much and overwhelmed him. "'m James, but you can call me Bucky," he says.

"Bucky's a dumb nickname," Steve mutters and then looks mortified at himself. Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"'s way better than Buchanan. What were my 'rents thinkin', huh? God bless their souls," he says conversationally, and Steve actually lets out a giggle, much to Bucky's delight. "C'mon, pal," he says, looping his arm in Steve's. "Managed to get the Hot Wheels. They're the best." Steve lets Bucky drag him along, smiling for the first time since he'd packed his ma's things away. 

A couple hours later, he'd wandered a little ways away, looking for the green car that had slid under another bed. He holds his breath so he won't breathe dust, and he wriggles his way under, catching the shine of the green plastic. He reaches out for it and lets out a sharp cry of pain when a foot comes out and stomps on his fingers. Hard. He scrambles out from the bed, covered in dust that falls from his hair and around his eyes, tickling his throat. "That's ours," he says, lower lip pushed out. "Give it back."

"Don't think so, newbie," the boy says, strappingly strong for a ten year old, with ruddy cheeks and green eyes. He smirks. "Not like a kid like you will last long enough to ever drive these things anyway." A sharp pang hits Steve's chest hard enough to make him gasp, struggle for hair, and the tickle in his throat gets worse, a cough bubbling out. He hates that the boy is probably right, that he's got one or two years at the most, just coughing and coughing, his whole body shaking and weak, tears streaming down his eyes because he can't breathe and-and

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Bucky comes out from behind Steve and shoves the other boy down, grabbing the car. "Pick on someone your own size." He leans down to peer at Steve, holding his inhaler. "Here, Stevie, take this for me. Breathe, okay? Just-just breathe with me." In and out, In and out. His vision clears slightly as he breathes in and out, eyes locked on Bucky's and chest rising and falling with him. In and out. In and out, until he stops coughing, collapsed weakly against Bucky, who pets his hair. 

"Thanks," he says hoarsely, limbs trembling as he tries to stand again, pathetically grateful when Bucky doesn't let go.

"'s okay. My ma used to get those sometimes, way back when." He throws an arm around him and keeps it there the rest of the time.

By nighttime, Steve is exhausted in that way that makes his joints ache, bones and muscles protesting against the more strenuous than usual workout. He'd stuck close to Bucky all day, and now Bucky was helping him rub the special oil his ma had give him on his knees and chest to help him breathe. 

"You gotta eat more," Bucky says, poking his ribs. 

"I eat," he says quietly. "We never had enough, is all." Bucky nods sagely

"Sometimes there ain't enough here, but usually we all get a big plate of food, even if it ain't the best tasting. Plus, my ma always used to tell me that drinkin' milk gave you strong bones," Bucky says with the gravitas of an eight-year-old. 

"Mine told me that too, but it gives me tummy aches," Steve says, biting his lip. Bucky just shrugs and pats his shoulder, giving him his shirt. 

"Then we'll find somethin' else. You got a favorite side to sleep on, Stevie?" he asks. Bucky had been doing that all day, making Steve 'Stevie' and at first Steve had bristled, but now he's grown to like it, at least a little, and accepted it as simply a Bucky-ism. Steve shrugs, gripping his pillow tightly against his chest. Bucky glances at him. His bed is by the window. "'s it better for you to sleep near air or with me by the window?" Steve chews on his lower lip quietly.

"'s probably better if you're in between me 'n the window," he mumbles. Bucky grins and tugs him over. 

"This is gonna be awesome. I've never had a sleepover before. They all don't count," he says with a dismissive flick of his hand to the boys all getting ready for bed. "They're not as cool as you, Stevie." Steve blushes bright red and ducks his head, and Bucky laughs, taking his pillow and fluffing it up. He gets in bed and holds up the blankets, looking at Steve expectantly. Steve makes a little sound and crawls next to him. Because he's so small, they fit together with relative ease, especially when Bucky shifts so he's curled against Steve's back.

"You're gonna be my best friend, Stevie," he mumbles against the back of his shirt. "Know it." Steve snuggles close into his warmth and just breathes, easy and clear, and lets himself believe.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your feedback and what else you think I should explore in this 'verse!


End file.
